


No Rest For The Wicked

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF, Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Gang Violence, Gangsters, Heavy Angst, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: After Álvaro has betrayed the gang and Paulo, the gang gives Paulo the opportunity to have his revenge. It doesn't go as planned.





	No Rest For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the November challenge - "Betrayal".
> 
> Title comes from my favorite Lykke Li song (actually a Bible reference, though).

Paulo has a premonition when the phone rings and Giorgio’s name is on the display. It’s the first day he is entirely sober and actually dressed and not smashing things in his apartment and crying himself to sleep. Any other day he’d be grateful for the distraction, grateful for having something to do. But the terrible feeling in his gut never lies, and he barely drags his feet out of the door.

Giorgio is waiting for him in front of the garages. He looks like he’s in his business mode, and it confuses Paulo even more. Since Álvaro betrayed them, the gang has decided to lay low until the storm would pass.

“I’ve got a task for you,” Giorgio says, confirming his suspicions.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t do anything before we sort this out,” Paulo objects.

“It’s almost sorted out,” Giorgio says calmly. “You’ll just finish it.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’ll need this.” He throws the car keys to him. Then he hands him a gun. “And this.”

Paulo just stares at him.

“The rest is in the car.”

Paulo approaches the car carefully, like it’s about to explode. He knows what he’s about to see, but it still almost makes him recoil.

Álvaro stares at him, tied up, gagged with duct tape, wide-eyed, sporting a bruise under his eye and a bleeding cut on his eyebrow. It’s a rather pitiful sight. Except that Paulo shouldn’t pity him. Not after all of this.

“Just take him somewhere calm and finish him off,” Giorgio says, approaching him. “I think it’ll do you good.”

Álvaro makes a panicked sound and starts to struggle against his bonds. Paulo doesn’t say anything, he just looks at him, feeling completely numb.

“Or is that a problem?” Giorgio asks, studying Paulo’s face intently.

“No,” Paulo says, and he finally feels the rage fill him up, allowing him to move. “No problem at all.”

Álvaro stops struggling and his eyes fill with tears. Paulo throws a blanket over him, more because he doesn’t want to look at him anymore than to hide him from the passing cars, and puts the gun in the glove compartment.

“No mess,” Giorgio says, clipping him on the shoulder. “Call me after it’s done. We’ll deal with the car and gun.”

Paulo nods and gets in. He starts the car and shoots one quick look over his shoulder. Giorgio raises his hand and nods encouragingly. Paulo feels like it’s not nearly enough encouragement.

 

* * *

 

Álvaro doesn’t stop sobbing throughout the journey. Paulo tries to ignore it and concentrate on driving, but it’s gnawing at his already weak nerves, and he feels like he’s going to go mad.

He’s not entirely convinced about it doing him good like Giorgio said. He feels much worse, actually. He can barely see the road. It’s like he relives it all once more, all this betrayal, all those weeks he felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

One day, Álvaro held him in his arms and whispered to him about their future, and the other he was gone, and Paulo was facing the rest of the gang who thought he knew what happened, while he just felt like he was living a nightmare. He might have had a gun aimed at his head that day, he doesn’t even remember, and if he did, he probably didn’t care. All he remembers is that he was shaking and drinking and crying, and calling the number that was no longer available. Today is the first day he didn’t do it. And he will never do it again.

“Cut it!” he snaps. His voice is hard to control at this point.

The sobs turn into quiet crying. Paulo takes a sharp turn. He knows of ten better places to do this, but he just can’t take it anymore. The sooner it’s over, the better. And the abandoned construction site fits the definition of a calm place just enough.

He stops the car and grabs the gun from the glove compartment. He runs the back of his hand over his cheeks just in case, but there are no tears left.

When he opens the back door and throws away the blanket, Álvaro blinks in the sudden light and takes a shuddering breath. His eyes are red-rimmed and hair messy. Gods would take pity of him, but not Paulo.

He grabs the front of Álvaro’s bloodied and dirty shirt and pulls him up. Álvaro groans and winces. The bruises on his face are probably not the only ones. Paulo thinks something about it serving him well, and pulls him out of the car.

Álvaro doesn’t resist, not as much as Paulo would like him to. He just stands there, slightly hunched to relieve the pain in his ribs, as much as the tied hands allow him to without losing his balance, and looks at Paulo like he waits for absolution. Paulo’s blood reaches the boiling point.

“How dare you!” he screams at him. “How dare you even look at me, I…”

He yanks on Álvaro’s arm and Álvaro drops on his knees. Paulo ignores the pang of guilt he feels when Álvaro groans in pain.

“Giorgio said the gang were family, but us two, we were more than that! Why did you have to spoil it? How could you do it to us? How could you do it to _me_?” He aims the gun at Álvaro’s head without further thinking about it.

Álvaro screams something that could be “Paulo”, with a lot of imagination. Whatever it is, it makes Paulo finally snap out of the frenzy. He takes a step back and presses his hands to his forehead, still gripping the gun, aiming at the sky like he wants to shoot God instead.

Then he takes a quick step and with one quick yank rips off the duct tape. Álvaro gasps, as the duct tape was also hiding a broken lip. Then he looks at Paulo and the gun still lewdly aimed at him.

“Not like this,” he whispers. “Not like this, please. Hear me out first.”

“Hear you out,” Paulo laughs, high-pitched and hysterical. “I listened to you all the time, and I was stupid enough to believe all your lies. All you said about our future…”

“I believed it!” Álvaro says. “I really did. When I left the Blancos, I thought it was forever, I wanted it to be forever. But I didn’t realize… that you could never really leave, and… I lied to you about one thing.”

Paulo smiles bitterly. “Just one?”

Álvaro nods, innocence personified. Paulo wants to kill him on spot, and bury him deep… and also cry on his grave. “I wasn’t alone in this world. I lied you about that. The gang were my family, but not the only one. You didn’t know, but… they did.”

Paulo just stares at him. Only Álvaro could be this naive, only he could believe people would treat him the way he treats them. Only he could betray the gang like this and not deserve a bullet in the head for it, only maybe a couple slaps in the face.

“I never meant to hurt you, I’d rather die, Paulo,” Álvaro whispers. 

And only Álvaro could be both his own accuser and judge.

“Confession over?” Paulo asks, voice hoarse.

Álvaro nods, and tries to wipe his tears on his shoulder, but then gives up on it.

Finally, Paulo musters up the courage to take another step and he pulls Álvaro closer. Álvaro rests his forehead against Paulo’s hipbone and the feeling is so familiar that Paulo’s eyes fill with tears again. He kind of wants this moment to last forever. 

“You’re not going to shoot me?” Álvaro whispers.

“I’m trying to,” Paulo whispers back.

He indeed is holding the gun a mere inch from Álvaro’s head, finger hovering over the trigger, feeling his heart beating somewhere in his throat.

Then he presses Álvaro’s head against his hip and empties the cartridge into the piles of sand behind them.

 

* * *

 

The motel he stops at is far from the city, and looks like it could be accidentally demolished any day, as it seems to be completely abandoned. But Paulo knows it’s still open, and barely anyone there cares who rents the rooms.

The room is far from nice, but as long as it has a bed and running water, it’s all they need. 

Álvaro hasn’t said anything since Paulo picked him off the ground and cut the zip tie on his wrists. Paulo suspects that he concentrates on staying conscious. At least whenever he peeked at him from the driver’s seat, Álvaro’s lips and hands were shaking, and by the time they get into the tiny bathroom, he is barely able to stand. Paulo peels off his shirt and the torn jeans, and almost gasps. Álvaro’s body is colored in bruises, none of them dangerous, but all with the purpose of hurting. But Álvaro doesn’t complain, save for an occasional hiss, almost like he takes it as his penance.

Paulo helps him into the bathtub and lets him sit down. Then he reaches for the shower, an old thing that sprays water everywhere, and starts to wash him, not really touching him, just letting the hot streams run over his body. He then scrubs the dirt and blood out of Álvaro’s hair with the hotel soap and tries to dry him as gently as possible with the scratchy towels.

“Wait for me here,” he says when he gets Álvaro to the squeaky bed. “Don’t open the door to anyone, don’t even move until I come back.”

“But…”

Paulo keeps ranting. “I’ll bring you some clean clothes… and something for the pain… and some food, God, you must be starving…”

“And a balloon and a teddy bear?” Álvaro smirks.

“Shut up!” Paulo says, but smiles. It’s ridiculous how quickly he went from wanting to fire a bullet or two in Álvaro’s head into this overprotective mode. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises then and closes the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

When he comes back a few hours later, he finds the room dark and quiet. For a moment, his heart skips a beat, but then he switches on the lamp on the nightstand and sees that Álvaro indeed hasn’t moved. He’s sleeping so tight not even the light disturbs him.

Paulo touches his shoulder and finally Álvaro’s eyes snap open. There is a moment of panic in them, passing once his eyes focus on Paulo.

“It’s you,” he breathes.

“I told you I’d come back,” Paulo whispers.

Álvaro pushes himself up with some effort, leans against the headboard and looks at Paulo and the bag on the floor. “Where were you?”

“I had to kill you,” Paulo explains calmly.

“Wh-what?”

“Better don’t ask,” Paulo sighs and sits next to him on the bed. “Show me this.”

He puts a band aid over the cut on Álvaro’s eyebrow and gently kisses him on the upper lip, avoiding the cut on the lower one.

“What now?” Álvaro asks.

“Now… we have to get as far as we can before Giorgio and the others find out you… were not really you,” Paulo says.

Álvaro keeps looking at him for a while, eyes filling with tears again. “I betrayed you, and you’d betray your family for me?” he asks.

“The gang is family, but us two, we are more than that,” Paulo says resolutely.

“Is that your mantra or something?” Álvaro smiles.

“More like a prayer,” Paulo says. “Probably my only one God has ever answered.”

Álvaro wraps his arms around Paulo’s waist and lays his head on his shoulder. “I just realized I never said sorry,” he says. “And still you didn’t shoot me.”

Paulo places a kiss in his hair. “You’re the epitome of sorry,” he says. “Just don’t do this to me again. Don’t betray me again.”

“Never,” Álvaro whispers and snuggles up to him, relishing the final moments of safety before they have to look over their shoulders all the time. “Never.”


End file.
